


Protocols

by Eligh



Series: Various Musings on How Clint Barton Should Join Phil Coulson's Motley Crew [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Episode Tag - s2e19, M/M, Making Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 13:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3852520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eligh/pseuds/Eligh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately after S2E19. Unrelated, as always, to the other stories in this series. </p>
<p>Clint delivers the Avengers' answer to the Theta Protocol in person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protocols

Clint’s sitting at the co-pilot seat of the quinjet when Phil climbs aboard.

It’s late, and Phil’s in search of a bit of peace and quiet; the Playground’s a bit too full for his preferences this evening. And then, even despite the inescapable crowding, the sight of this one additional body is almost shockingly welcome; of everyone he left behind for this life, Clint was the most difficult to give up.

“Hello,” Phil says slowly. He’s not particularly surprised to find Clint on the base. It’s likely he’s known for a while that Phil is alive—Clint’s not stupid, and he lives in close proximity to Tony Stark—and he’s always cultivated a habit of showing up unexpectedly. ‘Fosters diligence,’ he used to say.

Clint raises an eyebrow as the shuttle door closes behind Phil with a sort of ominous finality, and like that they’re cut off from the rest of the base. “Fancy seeing you here.” Phil tries for lighthearted and mostly fails.

Helpful as always, Clint highlights the failure by leveling Phil an utterly blank look from where he’s turned sideways in the seat, his legs kicked out, boots resting on some very sensitive equipment. He crosses his arms behind his head and leans back a little.

“You appear to be having some dissention in the ranks, Director,” he murmurs, low like he used to—before. It sends a shiver of heat up Phil’s spine, which he firmly ignores.

“Not sure if I can call myself that anymore,” he prevaricates, still aiming for relaxed. It’s true, and a harmless enough statement in the grand scheme of things, and it’s designed to open up the conversation. But Clint, being Clint, is stonewalling him, not giving him an inch of reaction. Phil supposes extended time apart will inevitably make him less able to read Clint’s unspoken language, but this is just ridiculous.

Clint stares him down for a moment—a heartbeat, two, three—and then sits forward, boots dragging across switches and buttons and falling heavily to the metal grate that makes up the floor of the cockpit. His tongue darts out and licks at his bottom lip, which, Phil notices distractedly, is split. He’s got a three- or four-day-old black eye, too, and Phil wishes very much that bruises weren’t Clint’s norm. He apparently hasn’t been taking any better care of himself with Phil out of his life.

“You,” Clint says crisply, “are an asshole.”

So it’ll be _that_ conversation, then. Phil can’t find it in his heart to argue, and besides, Clint’s certainly not lying. Clint inspects his expression, nods at Phil’s silence, and then chews a little on his already-abused lip.

“I talked to Maria today,” he says. “Well, I mean, I talk to her almost every day, since she works for Tony, but we actually discussed _things_ today.” It’s a pointed barb, and Phil knows it.

“I—” Phil fights down a cringe. “I know I should have told you.”

Clint barks out a harsh laugh. “What, that you were alive? Fuck, Phil, we’ve _known_ that. _Everyone_ knows that. Besides the fact that Maria’s my friend, you’re on fucking Youtube.” He leans back again, and there’s a hint of an honest smile gracing his face. “I’ve got every video bookmarked. You’re a stone-cold badass, sir.”

Phil taps his fingers on his leg. It’s a nervous tic, but there’s always something about Clint. He just can’t help himself. “Still.”

“Still,” Clint agrees, softly, the smile falling into seriousness. “Yeah, you should have said something.” He sighs. “But no, I meant, I talked to her about Theta Protocol. We decided that I’d deliver the team’s resounding ‘ _we’re in_ ’in person.” He clears his throat. “Go team Avengers.”  

“Oh,” Phil says, and feels ineffective, and a little overwhelmed. While news of the Avengers backing is play is good, he and Clint never used to talk at cross purposes. It’s disconcerting. He reaches out and idly straightens a buckle on one of the jump seats, and they lapse into silence.

“Wow,” Clint says, long after the quiet has stretched into awkwardness. “Okay, is this really going to be us? Are we those sort of exes?”

“We’d always said we wouldn’t be,” Phil points out, grateful for the thrown bone. “Granted, the circumstances aren’t what we’d expected.”

“The being exes part?” Clint asks. Phil inclines his head.

“Mostly that, yeah.”

Clint smiles and looks down, their years stretching between them for one bright moment. “It’s good to see you,” he finally says softly. “Really see you, you know? I mean, it’s one thing to know you’re out there, but…”

“I’ve got a bunk,” Phil offers, and when Clint looks up, there’s a wary sort of hope in his eyes. Phil crosses his arms and fights down the billion apologies vying for space on his lips. “We could—”

“Fuck?” Clint interrupts.

Phil blinks. “I was gonna say ‘talk,’ but your suggestion works, too.”

“Talk after,” Clint decides, and stands up. He holds out his hand. He’s still wearing his arm guard. “It’s been awhile, sir. Lemme see your gams.”

“What does that—what?” Phil says, and steps forward, grasps Clint’s hand. He’s found that he’s smiling, and he feels unfettered for the first time in weeks.

Clint’s eyebrow ticks up again, but otherwise his face is suspiciously deadpan. “I hang out with Steve way too much, let me tell you.”

“He does not say ‘gams,’ Clint, you are making things up.” Phil tugs a little on their hands, and Clint comes willingly. He’s smirking now, as he steps close and closes the distance.

“Maybe,” he admits, and then they’re kissing.

**Author's Note:**

> Needed to get this one in before Ultron goes on his rampage. 
> 
> Anyone else excited for this weekend? HAHAHA of course you are.


End file.
